


This Thing of Ours

by justacookieofacumberbatch (buffyholic)



Series: Don Armie & his Sweet Tea [3]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Organized Crime
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-16 22:37:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14820230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buffyholic/pseuds/justacookieofacumberbatch
Summary: Somehow, Armie managed to leave New York without seeing Timmy again, but has he escaped temptation?





	1. Chapter 1

The blast of hot, dry Los Angeles air on Armie’s face was a balm after all those days in the shadows of New York skyscrapers. Already beads of sweat were forming at the hairline on the back of his neck. Home sweet home.

Ahead of him on the airstair, his girlfriend shrugged out of her jacket, revealing the spaghetti straps of her white sundress, which hadn’t been suited for the cool, rainy weather when they boarded their flight. But it was perfect here, especially when the bright southern California sun hit it just right, and Armie could make out the outline of her hot pink lace shorties. It had to be on purpose. She knew he loved the way her ass looked in those things.

Without peering back at him, she slid into the back of the waiting car. 

As Armie approached, the valet nodded to him. “Good trip, sir?”

“Yes, thank you.” Armie slid into the car, settling in as the valet closed the door and fetched their bags. He laid his hand over his girlfriend’s knee. “How did you like New York?”

She shrugged. “It was nice to visit, but I missed the sun.”

He swirled his fingers a little farther up her leg. “Me too.”

“Though”--she propped her elbow on the seat back, tickling the nape of Armie’s neck--“I did get to fuck one of the sexiest men I’ve ever seen.”

As the driver got in and put the car in gear, Armie slid his hand up his girlfriend’s thigh, bringing her skirt with it. “I’m flattered.”

She pushed his hand away with a giggle. “Like I was talking about you.”

“That’s okay.” He turned towards her, touching his other hand to her knee as he nuzzled into her neck. “I did, too.”

She tried to pull her shoulder to her ear. “What are you doing?”

Armie nudged at her ear, squeezing her leg just above the knee. “What does it feel like I’m doing?”

“The driver’s right there.”

“So?” Timmy probably would have stripped off his shirt and climbed in Armie’s lap by now.

“So he’ll see.”

Armie glanced to the front, the tinted partition closed, the driver’s eyes intent on the road. “No he won’t. And even if he does, he won’t care.”

She looked at him like he’d grown a second head.

“Are you trying to tell me you wore those pink panties on accident?”

“Those were supposed to be a sur--” She burst into laughter.

Armie felt anger heat his face. “What?”

“Nothing. It just took me a second to get why you’re acting like this.”

Armie cracked his knuckles against his thigh. “Like what exactly?”

She scooted away so she could face him in the seat, pulling her knee up onto it. “He must have been a kinky motherfucker.”

Armie stared straight ahead, jaw clenched. To reduce Timmy like that…

“You know I don’t care if you go do that bondage shit with someone else, but don’t bring it home.”

Seriously. Just because he wanted to touch her in the back of a car. “I’m not.”

She huffed a single incredulous laugh and faced the front of the car.

Armie rested his elbow on the window well, his cheek on his fist, and watched her from the sides of his eyes. He pictured hair clenched in his fist, a throat under his palm, an ass over his lap turning the same color as those lacy panties, and he scrubbed a hand over his face because they all belonged to Timmy.

“If I brought it home, you’d know it.”

She didn’t respond, so Armie watched the traffic instead. His mind wandered, idly considering all the items he hadn’t touched in Timmy’s box of wonders. He’d intended to at least use the nipple clamps and one of the butt plugs, but they’d never gotten the chance. Armie had left first thing in the morning, after a slice of cold pizza and a piss. Timmy had refused to get dressed, stretching and posing and touching Armie in every attempt to start a round two, but Armie had places to be with people who would not tolerate tardiness.

Fuck those guys.

As they pulled up to his girlfriend’s apartment, she nudged his upper arm. “Hey, pouty boy.”

Armie raised an eyebrow at her. _Pouty?_

“Are you gonna come up?”

“If you want me to.” He stepped out of the car and held the door open for her as she followed.

She pecked him on the lips and strode into the building.

The valet pulled her bags onto the curb, and as the valet shut the trunk, Armie said, “I’ll take those. Go ahead and drop my bags at the house.”

“Very well, sir. Enjoy your night.”

“You too.”

Armie followed his girlfriend into the elevator, where she finally allowed him a grope under the dress.

“Better?” she asked.

He snapped the bottom band of her panties against her butt in response, and she flicked him on the earlobe.

Keeping his hand on her ass, he used it to pull her close and turned her so he could see where his hand disappeared under her dress in the mirror at the rear of the elevator. “What do you want to do?”

She kissed his jaw. “Hop in the shower with me?”

He tried not to picture his hand splayed on a neck beneath wet, black curls with a freckled face pressed to tiles. “Good idea.”

As the elevator dinged, she stepped away and fixed her dress. Armie followed her the rest of the way to the apartment and brought her bags to the bedroom as she put up her keys and hung up her jacket. Finally, she came up behind him, and grabbed two handfuls of his ass.

“Give me a minute before you come in, OK?”

Armie stretched the kinks from his neck and shoulders. “Sure.”

Armie kicked his shoes under the bed and started getting undressed. Barely did he have his suit coat off and cuffs unbuttoned before his phone chimed. He picked it up, expecting his girlfriend giving him the go ahead to come in, even though she had literally just closed the door to the bathroom, but instead, he saw the notification, _Timmy has sent you an image_ , and a text that read, _Coming along nicely, don’t you think?_

Already feeling a low pulse in his groin, Armie swiped it open. Timmy was in a towel, his head cocked to one side as he checked the framing of the picture in his phone. The picture was covered in transparent beads of condensation on the mirror, but the subject was clear. The marks from the top five bite marks were nearly black where his teeth had made contact, fading to maroon at the edges. There was clear swelling still on his nipple, and Armie wondered if he’d be able to take a clamp right now. God, he’d love to see that, and his thumbs were moving to type a message before he realized.

_**Thighs?** _

He had a new picture less than a minute later of Timmy sitting at the edge of a bathtub, legs spread wide, his free hand holding his cock and balls out of the way, and effectively hiding them from view. And as if that hadn’t been enough, he’d framed himself so that his face skirted the edge, gaze dark, mouth slightly parted, curls falling in his face. 

Tease.

“I’m ready,” his girlfriend called from the bathroom.

A spike of adrenaline stabbed Armie right in the heart, and he scrambled to get out of the rest of his suit. He took a step towards the bathroom but then turned. Reached for his phone. Shook his head. Turned on his heel.

And then he lunged for the phone, firing off--

_**Show me again tomorrow.** _

\--and heading for the shower.


	2. Chapter 2

It was well into the afternoon before Armie had an opportunity to check his phone, and he hadn’t realized just how much he’d been anticipating a message from Timmy until he found that there wasn’t one waiting for him. He didn’t even bother to read the other notifications that had come in before tapping over to Timmy’s thread.

His reminder to update him today was still at the bottom of the thread, with Timmy’s sinful tease just above, enough to make him glad he was alone but insufficient to satisfy. Plus, the fact that Timmy had so far ignored an order left Armie twitchy, though he knew it shouldn’t.

He also knew that the prudent course of action would be to delete the texts, delete Timmy’s number, and leave it alone, but he tapped the message box and typed—

_**I’m waiting.** _

He dropped the phone to his desk like a hot potato, irritably drumming his fingers against his knee, idly considering the best ways to punish Timmy for the delay despite his, admittedly paltry, efforts to keep those thoughts at bay. The real problem, though, was the difficulty in coming up with methods that would work over a distance when all he wanted was to grab a fistful of curls, yank back Timmy’s head, and sink his teeth into Timmy’s throat.

Thankfully, the phone pinged less than a minute after Armie pressed send. Unfortunately, the picture only showed the bite mark at the collar bone, two fingers hooked into the neck of a white t-shirt worn under a crisp dark blue button-up. It didn’t even show Timmy’s face.

Armie tutted.

_**Not good enough.** _

_I’m having dinner_ , Timmy replied.

_**And?** _

_At a restaurant. In public. Outside._

_**Am I supposed to believe that’s a problem for you?** _

Armie tapped the edges of the phone, rocking in his seat as he waited for a reply. He couldn’t help but grin thinking about Timmy’s reaction. Surely he wouldn’t actually capture the picture Armie sought at the table, but the temptation was certainly there. He could just picture the lip between Timmy’s teeth, the flush on his cheeks, the not-so-subtle squirm.

 _Just a sec_ , came the eventual reply, and Armie sat back in satisfaction, pressing his palm to his own burgeoning erection just to enjoy the sensation.

When the picture came in, Armie cursed. Timmy stood at a mirror, a pair of hand dryers clearly visible in the background. His head was tilted to one side, his t-shirt shoved up his chest and held out of the way with his teeth as his free hand held back the tails of his button-up. It would have been plenty erotic without the bruises, but they certainly didn’t hurt.

They appeared nearly the same as they had the day before, though it was hard to tell because the mirror had been somewhat fogged then. Today, he could see a bit better the dark red speckles at the edges of each bruise, where capillaries had broken without flooding the skin around it. That was always his favorite part, the variation of colors and textures that could only be achieved by sucking and biting. If only he’d had the opportunity to add a few scratch marks as well.

He wondered if Timmy had been looking at them and remembering. Had he pressed or pinched a bruise to recapture something of their encounter? Had he touched himself thinking of Armie? Did he ache for Armie’s hands in his curls and on his ass the way Armie did?

A ping interrupted his reverie.

_Better?_

Armie smirked. 

**_A bit._ **

He hoped his response frustrated Timmy. He hoped Timmy scoffed and rolled his eyes but left the bathroom determined to one-up himself, to show Armie something great.

He hoped Timmy wouldn’t just step into a stall and drop trou. He hoped Timmy would take his time, would finish his dinner and go home and ponder. He wanted to be on Timmy’s mind all night.

***

Armie went out for his own dinner a few hours later, a social call with a cousin, their significant others there as a buffer, as a bit of insurance that they would both “leave the gun and take the cannoli” as it were. The truth was, he knew this cousin had opinions on the way Armie was running things, and although it was important to keep up appearances, Armie had no interest in actually hearing any of what his cousin had to say.

The family was making more money under him than they’d ever before, with fewer arrests and fewer deaths. Why couldn’t they just be grateful? Just because he wasn’t some trigger happy mook, just because he had the audacity to go to Berkeley…

Unfortunately, no picture came in from Timmy to alleviate his mood, and he ended up barging into his own house after dinner, ripping off his tie and jacket before his girlfriend even made it through the door.

“Jesus, why do I put up with him?”

His girlfriend shut the door behind her and slipped off her heels, hooking them over two fingers. “I’m sure there’s an excellent reason.”

Armie nodded, running an exasperated hand through his hair as he paced. “Lots.”

His girlfriend walked towards the kitchen, shoes swinging at her side. “Drink?”

“No.” A drink would do nothing to blunt the edges of his mood. It would just make him careless, more likely to call his cousin on the phone and tell him just what he thought.

That was the worst part of this job. The God-damned diplomacy. At least when he was working up the ranks there was something to be said for seeing what he wanted and taking it. It gave him a reputation for giving no shits and taking no shit, for not being afraid to do whatever it took. Unfortunately, at the top, whatever it took took on a different meaning.

No, he didn’t want a drink. He wanted to take. Have. Consume.

He grabbed his girlfriend by the waist before she could pass by and kissed her. Hard. One hand cupped over the back of her neck, bowed over her so that she was forced to bend back and let some of her weight rest on the arm around her waist and the hand on her neck.

“I have a better idea,” he said, firming his grip around her waist so that her hip pressed to his groin.

She bit her bottom lip, fiddling with a button on Armie’s shirt. “That so?”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at her attempt to play coy. He nodded. “Yeah. What do you think?”

She shrugged. “Could be fun.”

In one swoop, Armie dropped to a crouch and lifted her up, shoulder to waist, like a fireman, making her yelp. Then, he sprinted up the stairs with her laughing and shrieking to put her down all the way.

A few minutes later, he was fucking her from behind, hands bracketing her hips, skin slapping together, grunts echoing, and dim light glinting off curves damp with sweat. She looked so sexy, and although she wasn’t normally a fan of this position, she’d done it for him tonight. He should be feeling good. His mind should be only on the slick, tight heat around him, the arched back, the soft skin, but the race of his heart could not be explained by exertion alone.

His shoulders still felt tight, like they might crawl into his ears. His chest felt constricted. He needed more. He needed harder. He need the slap of his groin against his girlfriend’s ass to be heard next door.

“Oh, fuck,” his girlfriend grunted in time with his renewed thrusts. She pawed at his wrist. “Quick. Rub my clit.”

Armie fell forward, the palm of one hand covering her mons as his fingers stroked, the other over her shoulder, pulling her back against him.

“I’m close,” she whispered.

 _Oh, fuck yes._ He could feel it coming. She was getting tighter and tighter around him. Hotter. Wetter. Her thighs were shaking.

“Do it.” His body curled over hers, his own orgasm coiling tight in his belly, his heart racing and chest heaving with only pleasure and exertion. _Fuck, fuck, fuck._ “Do it.”

Finally, he felt the tension in her body release, her muscles shuddering around him, squeezing his cock, milking him. Her head dropped on a long groan, and his hand snatched out to grab it, fist wrapped around a large chunk of hair, holding her against him.

“Ow!” She shot upright, her hips shooting forward, her head vaulting back. “What the fuck, Armie?”

Armie let go before sitting back on his heels. He let out a long breath, cheeks puffing as he pushed the sweaty hair from his forehead. He’d been so close, too.

She turned around and sat on a pillow at the head of the bed, rubbing at the back of her scalp. “Jesus.”

Armie scrubbed a hand over his face. Jesus, indeed. This was supposed to release his stress, and now…

_Shit._

She propped her elbow on her knee, her fingers still tangled in her own hair. “Do I at least get an apology?”

Armie stood and rummaged in his bedside table. If he couldn’t get his own endorphins churning, he could at least count on a little nicotine to soothe his nerves. “Sorry.”

She slid off the bed and into her panties. “Go scratch your itch. Spank yourself out. I’m heading home.”

Armie opened the pack of cigarettes and shook one out. It was dry as shit. “Christ. I said I was sorry.”

She pulled the straps of her dress up from the pool around her feet to her shoulders. “And I said don’t bring it to our bedroom. You’ve pulled this shit twice since we got home, Armie. I mean, come on.”

Armie huffed as his girlfriend shimmied backward towards him, zipper down to her waist and hair pulled aside. He grasped the pull tab and tugged it up. “For fuck’s sake.”

“We’ve had this deal for months, Armie. Most men would kill for it.”

She spun to face him, and he turned on the charm, smiling his best fuck-me smile and tickling his fingertips over the skin just below the hem of her dress. If he could just get her to stay long enough for him to finish…

“I have killed for it.” He popped his eyebrows.

She scoffed and pushed him off. “Don’t try to be cute. I’m not in the mood.”

“So you’re just going to walk out in the middle of sex.”

“It appears that way, yeah. I think I dropped my shoes on the way up here.” She wandered out of the room to look for them like nothing else mattered.

Fuck it. He’d just finish himself off, take a long, hot shower. Maybe that would work some tension from his shoulders. And if that didn’t work, he had some weed in his office. 

He strode into the bathroom and wrenched the hot water to full blast. As steam slowly began to rise from the shower, he waited, ass propped on the counter and fingers drumming against the edge. He stretched his neck and shoulders, crossed his arm over his chest to knead at his traps. He should get a massage. Someone he could tip handsomely for a little something extra.

The moment he thought it, he knew he wouldn’t, and not out of some sense of fealty to his girlfriend. It sounded boring. Picking someone up sounded boring. Hiring a professional who’d let him tie them up sounded boring. Even the club he loved so much, where he usually went to scratch this particular itch, sounded boring.

He just wanted to jack off to the pictures on his phone.

When he wandered back in to fetch it, his girlfriend was there, shoes on and purse tucked under her arm.

“Walk me out?” she asked.

“Nope.” Armie strode to the bathroom.

“Petty,” she muttered.

“Yep.”

She either scoffed or chuckled at that, but Armie didn’t care to discern. He pulled up the latest picture from Timmy.

“Call me when you get it out of your system,” his girlfriend shouted through the door.

Armie grunted in response, and zoomed in on Timmy’s bitten nipple as he shut the bathroom door behind him. God, he wanted to lick it. He wanted to suck it and pinch it and worry it between his teeth until the skin grew puffy again.

He licked his lips and put the phone down. That was enough to get him started.

After adjusting the water temperature to something a bit more reasonable, he wasted no time soaking himself and pumping a healthy dollop of conditioner into his palm. He braced himself against the back wall, water beating on his back, flowing down the backs of his thighs, and took himself in hand. He wasted no time at that either. He’d already had his foreplay. He didn’t need any of that. He just needed to come.

That didn’t stop him from thinking of Timmy, though. Not that he was trying to stop. He let the images wash over and away like the water on his back. He pictured Timmy in the shower with him, wet curls plastered to his forehead and the nape of his neck. He pictured his forearm braced across Timmy’s back, pushing him to the wall, Armie’s other hand gripping his hip, holding him still for a good fucking. Rough, wet kisses against the tile. Pushing Timmy down to his knees and holding him by the hair on his crown until Armie’s come flowed from the corners of his mouth.

Armie’s phone pinged, startling him from his fantasies, but he shook it away. It was probably his girlfriend anyway.

Putting Timmy in this very position and kneeling behind him. Sucking every water droplet from the skin of his ass until it all turned purple and then pushing his cheeks apart and eating him out until his legs could no longer support his own weight. Then he’d carry Timmy to the bedroom, get him good and slick and open, massage his prostate until he was shaking. And then he’d just plug Timmy up and have Timmy suck him off, tell him that’s how Armie would teach him not to come too early.

Armie’s own orgasm hit him like a ton of bricks. He locked his knees and hunched in on himself, his mouth pressed to his forearm to keep himself from shouting. He didn’t have security cameras in the bedroom or bathroom, but it wouldn’t be the first time a guard had come running after hearing a shout through the camera in the hall.

He stayed there for a moment to catch his breath, leaning his forehead to his arm, his hand still curled around his softening cock.

He shouldn’t have gone to sleep at Timmy’s apartment that night. He should have held off on coming and teased Timmy until he was hard again. He wanted to do so much more to Timmy than leave a few bite marks. Why did he have to fall asleep? Why did he have to go to a damn meeting that morning? Why had it felt so perfect at the time? And if it was so perfect, why did it feel so incomplete?

It felt like they were still in the same scene. That had to be it. By asking for the pictures, Armie had left it open, and Timmy reciprocated when he sent them. That was all it was. Timmy was making up for his premature ejaculation by making their one-night stand last a few more days. And Armie was more than happy to indulge. And after that, Timmy would be out of his system.

Armie shut off the water and whipped a towel off the rack, feeling great about his plan. He’d give this scene a proper ending and then move on.

Tucking the towel around his hips, Armie woke up his phone to find a message from Timmy--a picture of him lying on his futon, nude, his knees bent and open, his feet planted on the mattress, hips tilted, cock hard. His bottom lip was bitten between his teeth, his eyes dark with arousal and intent. It was captioned--

_How about now?_

Armie hit the info button in the corner, finger hovering over the little video camera icon. 

Did he want to initiate a call now, when he’d just come? Maybe it would be better to finish off the scene when he was more capable of arousal. When he could really appreciate it.

He went back to the picture, worrying his own bottom lip between his teeth. What to do… What to do…

He tapped the message box. Here again his finger hovered, and after a moment, he had to laugh. What was he worried about here? Hurting his girlfriend? Sure, he liked her. He didn’t want to hurt her, but it was ridiculous to think a few pictures would do that. She just told him to scratch his itch, and it was within their rules anyway. 

_Let it simmer_ , he thought.

_**Perfect. Show me again tomorrow.** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, and once again, many thanks to my beta, iamjohnlocked4life.
> 
> Come talk to me on [tumblr](http://justacookieofacumberbatch.tumblr.com).

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks once again to iamjohnlocked4life for the beta.


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